Not in a Million Years

I wake up to dozens of dings, pings, and whatever other sounds my phone decided to make.All of the sudden, people are extra talkative. So what, a titty pic got let out? Isn't it kind of normalized nowadays?It's not even mine.After last night's revelations, Cas and Sophie tried to reply to clarenton secrets's post, basically saying that I don't have a piercing, so it's not me. Sadly, nobody would listen. A few people stuck up for me, but most either didn't believe it, or didn't want to.I'm contemplating shutting down all my social media and taking a break--the shit's toxic.Who the hell runs clarenton secrets, you ask?Well, here's the answer: we're all asking, too.It could be one vindictive bitch or a group of bitches. Either way, they're some bitches for posting child pornography, among other things.I remember when Katy Schmitt's therapist's notes got leaked. How they managed that, I have no clue. That scandal led to one

We find LeAnn and Sophie at a pretzel shop, and I relax. Food is something we can all agree on… mostly. It only gets weird when LeAnn tries to say that mustard is good on fish. No, just no. “Yes, food,” Cas sighs. “Oh, we’re just getting drinks,” Sophie points at their cups. I can see the disappointment on Cas’s face. “Well, I want food,” she points to herself, “and Gen wants food, so you guys can go on and just text us where you’ll be.” Casandra can switch from my role model to my child in seconds. Food waits on no one. We agree to share a pizza, sa

“Jason, go away,” Claire yells ahead of us. “No, you go away,” he barks back. “My brother,” she whispers back at me. “Oh,” I nod. He stops in his tracks, turning around once he heard a second set of footsteps. “No,” Claire asserts. “No, no, no.” My expression morphs into bewilderment because of her outburst. She shares a knowing expression with Jason. Stabbing her index finger at him, she continues, “No. Go to your room. Please.” “Wait,” he smirks, “I want to know the name of this lovely lady you’ve brought home.” I grimace at his boldness. Some things don’t need to be said. Claire rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Gen, Jason,” she points between us, “Jason, Gen.” Sighing, she says, “Okay, you’ve met. Now, go away.” He smiles coyly, then throws his hands up in defeat. I can tell he’s annoying, but that’s how big brothers are. What’s the real reason she doesn’t want me to meet him? We

Friday My palms are sweaty, and there’s only one reason. He’s the only reason. Less than a foot away, I can smell his cologne. I knew it when I entered the party. This is far too elegant to be just a “party,” which I knew full well. But, to calm my nerves, I referred to it as “just a frat party.” It’s not like I haven’t been to one before. The first I went to was with Sophie, actually. Maybe I should have realized then that she had a problem. We were 16. It looked very different than this, though. It smelled like old socks and body odor. Sweaty guys ran around the house, and a thick mist surrounded us. Everyone here is classy, put together, and intimidating.

“Wow,” Aaron looks at me with hungry eyes. Usually I would enjoy his attention, but right now I feel awkward, like I’m under a microscope. He rubs his chin, ruffling the ginger stubble. Dad lightly taps the table. That’s his tell—when he’s slowly growing impatient or aggravated. I can sense the wheels of thought turning in his brain. “Where exactly were you?” “I forgot to tell you. I went to a party with Casandra.” Aaron shifts uncomfortably. “Oh, okay. Just remember to tell us,” he finishes. Phew.